


A Lesson In Obedience

by saltnhalo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Butt Plugs, Dean in Panties, Disobeying Orders, Dom Castiel, Dom/sub, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sex Toys, Spanking, Stressed Dean Winchester, Sub Dean, TA Dean Winchester, Teacher Dean Winchester, Vibrators, bratty dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 03:25:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14440422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltnhalo/pseuds/saltnhalo
Summary: Castiel helps Dean to relax after a long and stressful day at work.





	A Lesson In Obedience

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cryptomoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryptomoon/gifts).



> For the motherfuckin' woman. Happy birthday and thank you for everything, crypto. Enjoy your panty calendar as well ;)
> 
> (And a special thanks to [NadiaHart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nadiahart) for her wisdom and assistance.)
> 
> Enjoy!

“How the fuck are some of these kids so lazy?” Dean pinches the bridge of his nose and reaches for his red pen, circling the words ‘blah blah blah, fill in later.’ “Do none of them know that proofreading is a thing?” It’s bad enough that he’s found so many instances of lazy editing and grammatical mistakes across the many papers he’s marked so far, but he draws the line at totally forgetting to replace the filler text.

He finishes the essay with a few more muttered comments under his breath, and scrawls out a D in the top corner. All he had wanted were some quality essays – the professor had even let them choose their topic from everything they’d studied so far. But no. It’s just Dean’s luck that he’s the TA for the laziest anthropology cohort to ever grace the University of Washington.

Fuck his life.

He sets the graded essay aside and reaches for the next one. It’s a defeating feeling, to look at the two piles he has set in front of him and see that the stack of ungraded essays is still higher than those that have been graded.

With a heavy sigh, Dean chews on the end of his red pen and gets back to work.

Only minutes later, though, he’s interrupted.

“Dean?”

Usually Cas knows better than to interrupt Dean while he’s grading. Silently leaving a coffee or a beer beside him and leaving him alone is generally the best plan, especially when the essays he’s grading are just downright idiotic. For some reason, though, Cas isn’t following that routine today.

“I’m kinda busy here, Cas,” he snaps, tucking his pen behind his ear distractedly and beginning to read through the start of the next essay. Already, he can see that there’s been no effort to reference. Fantastic.

He reaches for his beer, but a hand closes gently around his wrist and stops him.

“Dean.”

Dean recognizes that tone. It’s not quite out at full force yet, but he knows what it means.

He tries to relax, knowing that snapping at Cas isn’t going to get him anywhere, but he’s too tightly wound.

“I’m just checking in with you. I haven’t seen you all day.”

He knows Cas is just trying to help and make sure Dean isn’t working himself to the bone, but the roiling frustration beneath his skin isn’t going away. He grits his teeth and glares down at the essay in front of him. “I _said_ , I’m busy. I’ve got all these fucking shitty essays to grade, so if you don’t mind…”

Castiel doesn’t say anything, but that doesn’t mean that Dean is off the hook or about to be left alone, not by a long shot. Cas also doesn’t loosen his grip on Dean’s wrist, and he tries to focus on that point of contact, but it isn’t enough.

“Look at me.”

The order is quiet, but it carries a calm weight to it. Dean swallows, sets down his pen, and turns in his chair until he’s facing Cas. There’s a small crease of a frown between his boyfriend’s brows, and clear concern in his eyes. Dean wants to brush him off – he’s _fine_ – but resolves to at least hear him out. Maybe then he’ll be left alone to wallow in his misery and frustration.

He lets his gaze drift out to the side, and Cas’s grip immediately tightens around his wrist.

“I said _look at me_.”

His voice is sharper this time, but as soon as Dean obeys and glances back up, Cas relaxes again. “What do you need?” he asks, his thumb stroking lightly over Dean’s wrist. “I can leave you alone if that is really your request, but somehow I don’t believe that that will help.”

Dean blows out a long breath. There’s no doubt that he’s in an antagonistic mood, and a big part of him just wants to be left alone, but… when he thinks about it, it _is_ possible that that’s stemming from something deeper. It’s been over a week since he and Cas last scened, and in the time since, Dean has been run ragged by work. It’s no surprise that he’s approaching breaking point, and Cas must see that in him.

Cas always knows what’s best for him.

Besides, this will be a better outlet than giving every single kid in his anthropology class a failing grade, and he still has time to get them all graded later. Right now, if he keeps going, it’s only going to put him in a worse mood.

He makes his decision, and nods his head.

“You think you can give me a distraction?" He smirks, falling into his role with practiced, fluid ease. He’s in that kind of mood tonight.

The hand around his wrist tightens again.

“How did I end up with such a rude, disobedient sub?” Cas growls, but Dean knows him well enough to see the smile crinkling the corners of his eyes – he’s pleased that Dean has accepted his offer. “I ought to punish you for speaking to me with such disrespect.”

Dean raises his eyebrows, and his smirk grows more pronounced. He loves this back and forth, seeing how far he can push Cas before his Dom snaps. “You can try,” he snorts.

Castiel’s eyes narrow, and Dean can see his mind working, figuring out his next step. The grip around his wrist disappears, and Castiel steps back, though he’s by no means relinquishing his power – that much is evident in the straightness of his back, and the calculating look in his eyes.

“I need to fetch something,” he says, “and I’m going to give you a chance to redeem yourself. I want you kneeling at the foot of our bed in five minutes, naked. If you’re good, I’ll go easy on you.” The corner of his mouth ticks up into an almost-imperceptible smile that threatens to turn Dean’s legs to jelly. “Trust me, you’ll appreciate it.”

And with that, he turns on his heel and disappears back out of Dean’s study.

Dean takes a moment to collect his thoughts and catch his breath. He’s already half-hard in his jeans, and can’t help but wonder what Cas has planned for him. It’s always a thrill, not knowing, and Dean takes a few seconds to just let himself imagine. None of the possible scenes he comes up with disappoint him, though Dean does know that Cas is planning a _punishment_. While not as much fun as a regular scene, he still needs them – especially if he’s going to sass his Dom like that. He grins.

He’d get a lot less punishments if he was always all coy obedience, but sometimes he _needs_ to push Cas, to bring out the best and the most creative in his Dom.

He can’t wait for whatever Cas has in store. But that doesn’t mean he’s going to make it easy.

It takes a minute or so to tidy up his desk, because Dean isn’t an _animal_ , thank you very much, and he _will_ have to come back and finish these at some point. Once the essays are neatly stacked and waiting for him to return, there’s nothing keeping him from their bedroom any longer.

He steps out of the study on quiet, socked feet, and glances around their living room. Cas is nowhere to be seen. Dean isn’t sure exactly _where_ he is, but he has no doubt that when Cas says ‘five minutes’, he means _exactly_ five minutes. And Dean has exactly two minutes and forty-seven seconds left.

So he takes his time. Though his eagerness and anticipation is bubbling up inside him (because anything is better than marking essays, but a _scene_ tops everything), but he doesn’t let it show. Dean meanders through their apartment to the bedroom, and contemplates the bed from his place in the doorway. 

Does he feel like playing along now? Is he going to give up the brattiness, the sass, for quiet acquiescence? Sometimes he needs to hear Cas say he’s good, to _be_ good. But today doesn’t feel like one of those days. The frustration still itches beneath his skin, and he needs it tempered by a firm hand, not by strokes and praises.

His decision made, Dean makes his way towards the bed and flops onto it on his back, still clothed. He turns his head to watch the clock on Cas’s nightstand.

Three… Two… One…

“You’re still dressed.”

Dean doesn’t bother looking over to the doorway, just arches his body lazily and grins. “Yeah. Didn’t feel like it. Didn’t want to get started without you, that’s no fun.”

He hears Cas suck in a breath, then release it in a long exhale. “Bratty sub,” he murmurs, and it’s only because of how long they’ve been together that Dean picks up on the hint of wry amusement in Cas’s voice.

Dean’s own grin widens, and he shifts on the bed, getting comfortable. “You love it,” he says, and Cas simply hums in reply.

The next thing he knows, Cas’s fingers are wrapping around his ankles, and he’s being yanked down the bed until his calves are dangling over the edge. He barely suppresses a yelp of surprise (that may or may not also be a moan, because he’d be lying if he said he didn’t find Cas manhandling him all kinds of sexy).

All he manages to get out is a “What the fu—“ before Cas’s look makes the words die on his tongue. It’s all steel and unwavering power, and Dean swallows nervously.

Slowly, Cas leans forwards, his legs pressed against the mattress between Dean’s knees and his hands coming to rest on the sheets on either side of his head. Even though Castiel isn’t directly touching him right now, Dean still feels pinned by the heavy weight of that gaze, Cas’s face only a few inches above his own.

“If you continue to disobey me,” Cas says quietly, his blue eyes flashing, “I will not hesitate to bend you over my knee and spank you until you can’t sit down for the rest of the week. I had hoped to make your punishment  _slightly_ more pleasant, but I am not above changing my plans if need be.”

He gives Dean a moment to let that sink in, then asks, “Have I made myself clear?”

Dean is walking a fine line now. He doesn’t want to give up completely, but if he keeps pushing it, he will definitely end up disappointing Cas. Above all, despite whatever mood he’s in or how much he wants to be punished, he still wants to be _good_.

“Yes, sir,” he says quietly, but his eyes still hold a spark of defiance that he knows Cas can see.

His Dom looks at him, in that searching, piercing way that only Cas can, and then the corner of his mouth is ticking up again in that tiny, satisfied smile, and he straightens back up.

“Good,” he says, taking a step back from the bed and pushing his hands into his pockets. “I’m pleased to hear that. Now, what was the order that you failed to obey?”

A muscle in Dean’s jaw jumps, his body still tense and riled up, and he takes a second to actively relax his muscles. He inhales, then exhales, then focuses himself completely on Cas.

“I was supposed to be naked and kneeling by the foot of the bed in five minutes’ time,” he says, then lets his gaze find Cas’s and gives a small smirk. “I can’t be expected to strip off in five minutes and with no mood music, though. Let a guy enjoy himself.”

It’s still sassy, but there’s no heat behind it like there was before, and they both know it. Castiel smiles. “Perhaps next time I’ll have you put on a show,” he tells Dean, then quirks his eyebrow. “But for now, I would like you to strip.”

There’s no fun to be found in continuing to disobey this command – it’ll only prolong the inevitable. Dean props himself up on his elbows, then pushes up off the bed until he’s standing barely a foot from Cas. He shoots his Dom a quick wink and bites his lip coyly, then shrugs off his flannel with a smooth roll of his shoulders.

He can feel Cas’s eyes on him, and even though he’s only stripping off so that they can get to the next part, whatever that is, he still wants to rile Cas up a little. That’s why he takes his time tugging his shirt over his head, then brushes his hands over his chest on the way back down – quick enough that Cas can’t call him out for deliberately teasing him, but slow enough that the gesture doesn’t go unnoticed.

Castiel’s breathing hitches.

By the time Dean is standing naked before his Dom, he’s completely hard, his cock curving up towards his stomach, and he can feel a flush on his cheeks, spreading up to his ears. Being under Cas’s scrutiny, beneath that intense blue gaze, often has that effect on him. He meets Cas’s gaze, his expression more than a little challenging, with the tilt of his head and his slightly raised brows and the barest hint of a smirk, until—

“Do you think this is acceptable behaviour, Dean? You’re just making things harder on yourself. I can wait until you’re ready to be good.”

Cas’s voice is ringing, slicing steel, and Dean drops his gaze immediately. Without thinking, he clasps his hands together behind his back, right fingers curled around his left wrist, and exhales.

“Good boy,” Cas murmurs, stepping into Dean’s personal space. Dean shivers, both from the praise and the proximity. “I know you can be so good when you want to. Sometimes we just have to get through the attitude first, don’t we?”

Dean makes a soft sound in the back of his throat, his gaze still downturned. He doesn’t want to disappoint Cas in any way, doesn’t want to actually take it _that_ far—

Castiel presses a gentle kiss to Dean’s forehead and quietly hushes him. “Shh, pet. I love every part of you, even when you’re being bratty.” There’s more than a hint of amusement in his tone, but it’s also _warm_ , and Dean breathes a quiet sigh of relief. Cas isn’t _actually_ disappointed in him.

“I do have to punish you, though, more severely than I had planned,” Cas reminds him, his voice low and rough, sending shivers down Dean’s spine. His cock twitches in the air. “We will start out slowly, at first. Your little strip tease and your obstinate attitude tells me that there’s no reason for me to rush.”

The air around Dean suddenly feels too cold as Cas steps away, and Dean has to bite back a quiet, disappointed sound. Instead, he waits, his gaze remaining on the floor despite his desperate curiosity. Is this linked to whatever Cas had said he’d had to fetch? He’s almost vibrating out of his skin with interest, and it takes considerable effort to hold his position.

And he’s glad he did, because when Cas steps close again only moments later, it’s with a caress that starts at Dean’s shoulder and trails across his skin until it ends at the curve of his hip. “Good,” Cas praises. “You may look up.”

Dean does – and he certainly isn’t expecting what he sees.

Cas is holding in his hands a pair of light pink panties, made of satin and with a white lace trim around the edges.

He stares at them for a few seconds, his eyes wide and his pulse racing, then looks up at Cas. His Dom is smiling, the corners of his eyes crinkled with amusement.

“That doesn’t look like a punishment,” Dean ventures, dropping his eyes back to the lace and satin. Cas just chuckles, soft and deep in his chest.

“No, it doesn’t,” he agrees, and he doesn’t say anything further as he hands them to Dean.

He’d never expected to like wearing panties – but, then again, he’d never expected to like a lot of the stuff that he does. The realization of his panty kink had come earlier than his realization that he was a sub, and that he liked the feelings that accompanied submission. As such, he never feels embarrassed or out of place wearing panties (unless he’s wearing them out in public or he’s in a precarious position), but even though they’re pretty routine by now, wearing them around Cas always feels like a thrill.

Dean more than suspects that it has something to do with the way Cas looks at him when he’s wearing them, with unbridled desire and a lust that Dean has never seen matched on anyone in his life. His Dom admires him for a long moment, gaze trailing over bare skin and lace and satin as Dean stands as still he can manage, his hands clasped loosely behind his back.

“Beautiful,” Cas murmurs, and Dean blushes all the way to the tips of his ears. “I wish I could see you like this all the time.”

When Dean sneaks a glance up at Cas, he finds his Dom completely distracted, simply staring at Dean with unmasked awe on his face. When he catches Dean looking after a few moments, he smiles. “Cheeky sub. What will I do with you, hm?”

Dean raises an eyebrow suggestively, his lips curling up into a faint smirk, and Cas laughs. “Perhaps later,” he says. “For now, I believe you still have a punishment awaiting you.”

“What, putting me in panties isn’t punishment enough?” Dean jokes quietly, earning him a gentle swat on the ass as Cas steps closer.

“I know you love wearing them, that is by no means a punishment. I’ll caution you to quit while you’re ahead, Dean, you’ve already dug yourself quite a hole tonight.”

There’s no heat behind his reprimand – they both know that they’ve passed the point of Dean being properly argumentative – but Dean drops his gaze again and waits for Cas’s next instruction.

His Dom’s hand ghosts lightly down his side, making him shiver. “Beautiful,” Cas hums. “On your hands and knees on the bed, facing the headboard, please.”

Dean capitulates immediately, and his eagerness must show in his movements because he almost faceplants on the bed, and hears Cas laugh behind him as he settles into position. He allows himself a small chuckle at his own clumsiness, then shifts so that he’s comfortable, and lets everything else slip away.

All he’s focused on is the bed beneath him, the feeling of satin and lace on his skin, and his awareness of Cas behind him.

Castiel’s footsteps are quiet on the carpeted floor, and Dean hears him cross the room, followed by the sound of the closet sliding open. That’s where they keep their toys and accessories, and that knowledge has arousal flooding through Dean. He shifts in place, the satin pulling tight against his cock and drawing a soft gasp from his lips.

He doesn’t break his position, though, and soon enough he hears Cas return to the bed, then feels the mattress dip behind him.

Cas’s fingers ghost over Dean’s skin; along his back, over his ass and down his thighs. He toys with the lacy edges of the panties, sliding his fingers under them and snapping the elastic lightly against Dean’s skin.

Dean shivers and lets his head drop a little further, but otherwise doesn’t move. He’s rewarded by the press of Cas’s lips to the bottom of his spine, just above the waistband of the panties.

“Finally, we’re behaving,” Cas whispers against his skin with a smile. “ _There’s_ my good boy.”

It’s impossible for Dean to stifle the quiet sound he makes in the back of his throat at the praise, but Cas soothes him with the steady touch of his palm against his hip. It’s an unspoken reassurance that whatever Dean needs, Cas is here for him.

And right now, Dean needs to be taken out of his head. He’s already partway there, his frustrations and stress slipping away, but he knows that Cas can take him all the way.

He sighs out a long breath and pushes back into Cas’s hands. It earns him a light swat to his right cheek.

“Patience,” Cas tells him, and his hand grips the muscle of Dean’s ass, bunching the satin over his skin. “We’re going at my pace. The more you push, the slower I will go.”

That’s not what Dean wants, not at all. He goes still, and is rewarded by Cas’s fingers curling into the waistband of the panties. He pulls them down until they’re caught beneath Dean’s cheeks, leaving his ass on display. Being completely laid bare to Cas like this, in body and in soul, used to scare Dean, but now he relaxes into it.

Cas knows him, every part of his body and his mind. Cas will catch him.

“Exquisite,” he hears Cas whisper – quietly, as though to himself. The snap of the lube cap opening distracts him.

Fingertips brush over Dean’s entrance, light and teasing, circling his rim. It’s enough to make Dean’s body want more, trying to pull Cas in, but his Dom wasn’t kidding when he said he was taking it slow. He couldn’t say how much time passes as Cas contents himself with teasing Dean, tugging lightly at his hole with a thumb or teasing around it with his fingertips.

He’s not even close to his limit, and could probably put up with the light touches for a lot longer were he not already wound up. As it is, he grumbles without thinking, “Stop fucking _teasing_.”

Instantly, Cas’s hand comes down sharply on Dean’s left cheek, and Dean has to stifle a groan.

“Talk back to me again and I’ll reconsider my earlier plan of spanking you until you can’t sit,” Cas warns him, even as his hand smooths over the skin where there is, no doubt, a perfect red handprint.

While that doesn’t sound unappealing, Dean is also curious about what Cas has in store, so he bites back another comment and instead relaxes beneath Cas’s touch, his mind calming as he focuses on his Dom.

That must be what Cas was looking for – that relaxation, submission, giving himself over totally to his Dom’s control – because the finger that had been circling his rim sinks in to the first knuckle. Dean gasps softly, but doesn’t push back into it. He’s learned his lesson.

Cas’s lips press against his cheek, and Dean feels more than hears him murmur, “Good.” From there, it’s easy to sink into the sensations of Cas’s hands on his skin, the finger deep inside him beginning as one, and becoming two and then three. Still, he doesn’t push back into it, doesn’t demand more. He lets Cas set the pace. He trusts Cas to know what’s best.

Dean can’t help the soft groan that falls from his lips as Cas’s fingers crook against his prostate, but it quickly turns into a whine when those fingers withdraw, leaving him empty and wanting.

“What was that?” Cas asks, his hand palming over Dean’s ass.

Dean lets out a shuddering breath.

“Sorry, sir,” he says quietly, and he feels Cas pause behind him.

“Colour?” he asks, and despite the floaty headspace that Dean is beginning to edge towards, he smiles. Of course Cas is still looking after him.

“Green,” he says without reservation.

“Ready to move on, then,” Cas says, more to himself than to Dean. He’s in charge, and Dean will obey whatever order Cas gives, accept any decision that he makes. It’s a heady sensation, and one that Dean can never get enough of.

Something teases against his rim, cool and solid, and Dean’s muscles relax without conscious thought to accept it. Cas teases Dean with it, pushing it in just slightly and watching Dean’s hole trying to draw it in further. It’s enough to start up a slight tremble in Dean’s muscles the longer Cas persists, and it’s then that Cas slides it smoothly all the way in.

The flared base of the plug settles snugly into place, and Dean exhales slowly, letting his head hang. It’s not as good as Cas’s cock, but it still feels pretty damn nice with the way it stretches him wide and grazes just shy of his prostate.

“Enjoying that?” Cas asks wryly, and Dean gives a slightly breathless chuckle.

“Yes, sir. Not as good as your cock, though.”

Two fingers tap sharply against the base of the plug, and Dean swears in shock, his body jerking. Those same broad, warm hands smooth over the curves of his ass to soothe him, then pulls the panties back up in a delicious drag of lace and satin over skin. “Flattery will get you nowhere, pet,” Castiel warns. “And you’ll have to be much better behaved in the future, if you are to be deserving of getting my cock.”

Now there’s an incentive that Dean can get on board with. He’s dug his hole tonight, though, and he won’t be rewarded in such a way – but anything Cas chooses to give him is more than enough for Dean.

“Besides,” Cas continues, and Dean has known him long enough to pick up on the hint of deviousness in his voice, “I think you’ll like this.”

Dean hears the click of a button behind him, and then the plug begins to vibrate.

It’s on a low level right now, but the way the panties are stretched tight by his straining erection are only increasing the effect of the vibrations. Dean gives a low moan, and his hips rock minutely in the air, but Cas allows him a slight amount of leeway in this time of adjustment.

“Such beautiful sounds you make.” Cas isn’t touching him right now, but Dean can feel the weight of the mattress still dipped behind him, and the heat of his Dom’s gaze on his skin. “I’m so lucky to have you. My good boy.”

A shiver runs the length of Dean’s spine, and he melts into the praise, lets it ground him even as the vibrations from the plug light him up from the inside. Whatever Cas wants from him, he can do.

“Are you listening to me?” Cas asks – it’s easy for Dean to get lost in a scene, and so Cas likes to make sure that he’s still paying attention, that his Dom is his sole focus, at it should be. He dips his head in a small nod, hoping that it’s enough. He doesn’t really trust himself to move much more right now.

Cas’s hand smooths across Dean’s ass, and a finger presses against the base of the plug for a second, driving it deeper and making Dean gasp. “Good,” his Dom says, and the hand disappears again, along with Cas’s weight on the mattress. He’s still here, though – Dean knows that Cas won’t leave him – and his trust proves not to be misplaced when Castiel’s hand strokes over his bare shoulder, then cards through his hair. “I’m going to steadily increase the vibrations. You are allowed to make sounds, but I do not want you to move, or to come. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Dean whispers, and though his eyes are closed, he can tell from the shift of the mattress that Cas is in front of him now, sitting back against the headboard. He takes comfort in the knowledge that his Dom is close by, even if Cas isn’t touching him right now.

“You may take a moment to get comfortable.”

Dean drops down onto his elbows and shifts his knees wider, biting back the moan that threatens to escape when the plug shifts inside him. He settles into the position, takes a deep breath in, then lets it go.

“I’m going to start increasing the vibrations now,” Cas tells him, and he does.

Dean loses track of time. He’s not sure how long he stays there, on his knees and elbows with his cock straining against the panties. He’s reduced to nothing more than a mess of sensation, every spark of arousal felt in crystalline clarity, especially since there is nothing he can do to relieve it.

Every time Cas increases the vibration of the plug with a quiet _click_ of his remote, Dean gasps, and his muscles tremble with the effort of staying still. It becomes harder and harder to keep his position as the vibration intensifies, until it feels as though it’s ricocheting throughout his whole body and lighting him up to the tips of his fingers and toes. His cock _aches_ , the stimulation not enough even if he were allowed to come, and he can feel the satin growing damp with precome, his whole body hypersensitive.

Cas certainly doesn’t make it easy on him. He knows his sub too well, and can read him with ease. Every time the vibrations begin to feel less intense, or Dean becomes more accustomed to them, Dean will hear that _click_ that signals an entirely new level of pleasure.

By the time Castiel decides he’s had enough, Dean is trembling, sweat shining along his back and sticking his hair to his temples. The only sound in the room has been from the buzz of the vibrator and the moans that have slowly devolved into desperate, needy whimpers. When Cas turns it off completely, Dean whines, and all his previously-tense muscles go slack. The room is quiet.

It takes Dean a few seconds to catch his breath, and he wants nothing more than to collapse onto the mattress, but Cas hasn’t said that he can move yet, so he stays where he is.

“You are so beautiful,” Cas says quietly, and his hand cups the side of Dean’s face. Dean can’t help it; he leans into the touch, needing the physical support of his Dom if only just for a second. Thankfully, Cas allows it, and strokes a thumb over Dean’s cheekbone. “Look at me.”

Dean lifts his head and opens his eyes, watery with unshed tears at the constant stimulation. It takes a few slow blinks to bring Cas into focus, tears clinging to his lashes, but he’s able to meet Cas’s gaze.

His Dom looks calm and unruffled, sitting cross-legged against the headboard. He smiles gently at Dean when their eyes meet. “Good boy, Dean. Catch your breath.”

Dean focuses on evening out his breaths until his body is relaxed and pliant and he no longer feels as though he’s going to shake apart – though the insistent thrum of arousal still vibrates beneath his skin. Once he’s got control of his breathing back, Cas continues.

“Colour, pet?”

“Green.” Dean’s voice is a husky rasp, but he answers without hesitation.

He’s rewarded by another stroke over his cheekbone, and then Cas’s fingers tighten just a little around the curve of his jaw.

“Would you like to come?”

Dean whimpers even at the mention – he’s hard and aroused beyond belief, what with the constant stimulation just shy of his prostate, and the gentle drag of lace and satin against his flushed, aching cock. Even the idea of an orgasm is enough to increase his desperation.

“Please, sir,” he begs. The corner of Cas’s mouth lifts in a smile.

“Then you may come whenever you are ready.”

It sounds too good to be true. Dean stares at his Dom for a second as he processes the command, his eyes wide and his lips parted in surprise. He can come? Just like that? Surely that’s too easy, after the desperation that has been steadily building in him under Cas’s watchful eye and guiding hand.

He’s not about to look a gift horse in the mouth, though. He shifts his weight to his left elbow, his limbs heavy from holding the same position for so long, and reaches down with his right hand with the intention of freeing his cock—

And Cas’s hand shifts, lightning-fast, to the back of Dean’s neck, and squeezes. Not hard, but enough to be a warning. Dean freezes, his gaze flicking back up to Cas’s in question.

“You may come,” Castiel repeats, slowly and clearly, “but you may _not_ use your hands to do so.”

Dean gapes at him, still frozen in place, and Cas’s smile widens. “I did tell you this was a punishment. I’m not going to make it easy on you. If you wish to come, you may come, but you are under no circumstances allowed to touch yourself.”

He’s not allowed to touch himself? Dean sucks in a breath, still trying to comprehend Cas’s order in the arousal-clouded haze of his mind. Castiel’s hand lets go of the back of his neck, and he reaches for something on the bed.

“Did you need a little more help, there, pet?” he asks, and Dean realizes what he’s holding a half-second before the plug in his ass buzzes back to life at what is surely the highest setting.

It feels like he’s going to come apart, so desperate is he for release. He’s barely aware of the sounds he’s making; needy, strung-out moans and whimpers as pleasure washes over him, and he barely has enough functioning brain cells left to drop his body onto the mattress.

The change in position traps his aching cock between his stomach and the bed, and Dean moans against the sheets as he ruts his hips. The friction isn’t quite enough, but it’s miles better than no friction at all, and he twists his fingers into the sheets for something to hold on to as he chases his orgasm.  

Between the vibrations of the plug and the slide of satin over his cock as he grinds against the bed, Dean is closer to the edge than he has been all evening, but he still can’t quite get there. He tries, he tries _so hard_ , not wanting to disappointment his Dom, but he _can’t_.

Dean drags himself up a little and edges closer to Cas, still moving his hips against the bed. He presses his forehead against Cas’s knee, unsure if he’s allowed the contact but desperate for it anyway. If it’s not allowed, he’ll take the punishment, but he _needs_ Cas right now. Thankfully, Cas knows that, and within seconds, there are fingers stroking through Dean’s sweat-damp hair.

“Good boy, so good, you can do this,” Cas whispers as Dean grinds against the bed in desperate little circles, the satin of the panties sliding over his cock, just shy of the friction that he craves.

With Cas’s hand in his hair, Dean feels instantly more secure, more supported. He curls his fingers around his Dom’s ankle, craving that contact even as he tries to prove that he can be good for Cas, he can follow orders.

The vibrator kicks up one more impossible level, and Cas’s hand tightens in his hair, pulling gently.

Dean comes in the satin panties with a punched-out moan, his hands shaking as he rides the crest of his orgasm into oblivion.

All he registers is pleasure, and relief, and the solid weight of Cas’s body, the leg he’s clinging to and the hand in his hair, stroking it. Cas is speaking, he knows, but he can’t make out individual words right now. He just lets Cas’s voice wash over him as his eyes slide closed and his body finally, _finally_ , can relax.

Everything after that is a bit of a blur. The only constant is the touch of Cas’s hands as he gently removes the plug and the panties, cleans the come from Dean’s stomach and holds him close for a few minutes after the scene. Cas’s voice surrounds him, praises of “so good” and “I love you,” and Dean could stay in this floating headspace forever, completely encompassed by his Dom’s voice and his touch.

When Cas says, “I’ll be right back,” Dean whines in the back of his throat, but he’s too tired to put up a fight, so he lets Cas go and stays curled up beneath the sheets of their bed. Cas is true to his word, and returns barely a minute later.

“Can you sit up for me?” he asks as he slides into bed. Dean grumbles, but with Cas’s help, he manages to sit somewhat upright, leaning against his boyfriend’s chest as Cas sits back against the headboard. Cas’s arm is secure and warm around his shoulders, and his other hand holds a juicebox, the straw hovering near Dean’s lips.

Dean leans his head against Cas’s chest and sips at the juice until the gurgle of the straw signals that there’s nothing left in the box, at which point Cas sets it aside on their nightstand. “How are you feeling?” he asks, running his fingers lightly through Dean’s hair.

Dean closes his eyes. “Tired,” he murmurs against Cas’s chest, curling his fingers into the fabric of his boyfriend’s shirt. “But good. Much less stressed out.”

“Good.” Cas presses a kiss to the top of Dean’s head. “I don’t like seeing you stressed or upset, especially if I can help.”

He moves again, and Dean slits one eye open, watching as Cas sets a plate of grapes and cheese cubes down on the bed beside them, then grabs the remote for their TV. “Now, you’re going to eat all these for me, and we can watch whatever you’d like. Happy with that plan?”

“Sounds great,” Dean mumbles with a smile, directing Cas into opening the YouTube app on the TV. He’s been putting off watching the newest episode of Buzzfeed Unsolved about the Mothman because of work, but now that he’s allowed to be a little self-indulgent…

Cas gives him an exasperated but fond look, having been the one to bear the brunt of Dean’s newest obsession, but doesn’t otherwise comment. Instead, he reaches for a grape and holds it up to Dean’s lips.

Dean makes sure that he curls his tongue around Cas’s fingers as he takes the grape, and smirks up at his boyfriend. “Truly insufferable,” Cas sighs, but he’s still smiling.

Warm and tired and loved, Dean curls up against Cas so that they’re properly cuddled up together, and they settle in to watch the episode.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this, please leave a kudos and/or a comment! Find me on tumblr [here](http://saltnhalo.tumblr.com), and if you liked this, subscribe to me on AO3 [here](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltnhalo).


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